


With Those Eyes

by scarletbegonias37



Category: Looking (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 16:10:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletbegonias37/pseuds/scarletbegonias37
Summary: Just a glimpse at Richie & Patrick's future.





	With Those Eyes

Richie was having an odd dream that he was being lightly mauled by a hairless bear. The bear had gotten offended because Richie had asked why it had no hair, and it had informed him in a quite salty tone (the bear could talk in Richie’s dream) that it couldn’t grow any. Then it began to toss Richie around, rolling him over and batting him back and forth. Its hands felt like big puffy pillows; the bear didn’t seem to have any claws either.

Richie woke up laughing and realized Patrick was tickling him. “Thank GOD,” Patrick exclaimed, pouncing upon him and smothering his face with kisses. “I thought you were never going to wake up. I’ve been waiting.”

“Clearly,” Richie responded with all the breath he could muster, still giggling and kissing at the same time. “I was having the weirdest dream.”

“Did it involve making sweet love with your husband on a bed of clouds?” Patrick batted his eyes prettily.

“No, you were a hairless bear who kept wrestling with me,” Richie fell into a fit of laughter again just saying it out loud, and Patrick put on a look of mock-offense.

“I’m hardly a BEAR. I’m still just coming into my seal pup-ness. But I would like to wrestle,” he said with a grin, grasping Richie’s hands in his and holding his arms above his head as he leaned in to kiss him once more.

“You ARE feeling perky this morning, huh,” Richie murmured huskily, closing his eyes as Patrick began to leave a trail of kisses down his neck and chest, descending further south.

“You have NO idea,” Patrick looked up at him. “I was about to start jumping on the bed if you didn’t wake up.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Richie smiled, and gasped as Patrick began licking and gently nipping at the soft skin of his inner thigh, reaching down to run his fingers through Patrick’s hair, and smiled when he felt that it was damp. Well, some things never changed. Richie had told Patrick many times that after almost seven years together there was not a smell or taste that could possibly come out of Patrick’s body that would offend him, but still, after all this time, when Patrick wanted to get fucked he still got up and took a shower first.

With impeccable timing, the baby down the hall began to wail at top pitch. Patrick froze, one hand squeezing Richie’s hip and the other slapping down on the bed in frustration. He leaned against Richie’s thigh, his face muscles tight.

“I know I’m supposed to let her self-soothe, but…I just can’t”, Patrick mumbled through gritted teeth. He had read some old Dr. Spock book, along with 50,000 parenting articles and journals, but he still reacted in an instant as soon as the baby made the slightest fuss.

Richie smiled and stroked his hair again, lightly. He didn’t really agree with the whole ‘let the baby cry it out’ thing either; as far as he was concerned – and he’d been around a lot of babies – if a baby cried, you went and picked it up and tried to figure out what it wanted. Simple. But Patrick loved to make things complex.

“You know, one time my abuela let my sister cry it out, but she just cried and cried, and wouldn’t stop. After a long time they went to go check on her and she had six bee stings and there was a dead bee in the crib,” Richie mused.

“WHAT?!?!” Patrick jumped up, grabbing a pair of boxers and tank top off the floor and pulling them on as quickly as possible. “You never told me that story! That’s horrifying!”

“I’m joking! It was only one bee sting,” Richie qualified. “She says she crushed it with her baby fist and that’s what made her so tough.”

“I don’t even know if Cecilia is allergic!” Patrick fretted, leaving the room like it was on fire.

“We had her tested!” Richie called out, already regretting having teased his husband, though he knew Patrick had wanted the excuse to give into his indulgent urges. He sat up slowly himself, looking for his clothes. He didn’t want to miss this.

While pulling on his sweatpants and t-shirt and peeking out of the window to check the weather, Richie’s mind flashed through a number of scenes from the past years.

***

Patrick had started dropping hints about marriage about as soon as he felt assured that Richie wouldn’t flee for the hills, which was about one year after their reunion. They’d dated long-distance for almost six months, while Richie went to Texas on his mission to find himself, which basically meant a ton of phone sex and Patrick showing up for a visit every other weekend. When Richie realized he missed the Bay Area and was ready to return, he found a place in Oakland.

Patrick showed up on his doorstep three weeks later, having received and apparently instantly accepted a job offer in the city.

Richie still wanted to move slowly, so despite the fact that one of them was constantly at the other’s place, they kept separate apartments for another six months. Eventually, after realizing Patrick hadn’t left his place in a solid week, had hung half his shirts in Richie’s closet, and needed more than one bathroom shelf (Richie admittedly had a LOT of hair products), Richie agreed that they could move in together.

Patrick was thrilled, but it wasn’t long before he began dropping not-so-subtle hints about how perhaps he should not have given the milk away for free since now Richie would never buy the cow. “Oh, do you want to be milked, sweetie? That can be arranged,” Richie laughed, reaching to squeeze him, and any serious conversation was put off for the next several hours.

After another six months of hints, audible sighs whenever a famous gay Instagram couple posted their engagement pics, and one too many marathons of “Say Yes to the Dress” (watched dreamily by Patrick while Richie read a book or worked on his accounts), Patrick got impatient and proposed for the first time, late at night, in bed.

Richie took about 15 seconds to respond, which was 15 seconds longer than Patrick thought his heart rate could bear, and 45 seconds less than Richie would have really liked to take to formulate an honest answer that wouldn’t give Patrick a panic attack. “Not yet,” he said at last, gently.

“Not YET? What kind of an answer is that?” Patrick exclaimed nervously, taken aback, but not hyperventilating, at least.

“It’s a tentative yes with a qualification about time,” Richie chewed his bottom lip a bit. He didn’t like having conversations this uncomfortable, and he’d hoped he had a little longer before he was put on the spot about this, but he’d learned that Patrick needed to hear things articulated out loud.

“I think I got that much,” Patrick said drily. “Well, at least it’s not a flat no.”

“Of course not. Of course I want to marry you,” Richie said soothingly, reaching over to stroke Patrick’s arm and forehead. “It’s just…well…”

“What? You think I’m a terrible bet? You think I’m going to turn into a Bridezilla?”

“I KNOW you’re going to turn into a Bridezilla. That’s not it. It’s just that…I would be more comfortable getting married once my financial situation is a little more secure,” Richie admitted with some stiffness. The mobile salon business was doing well, but two relocations in a short time period hadn’t left too much buffer room in his savings, and the last thing he could tolerate was being a burden. “I’m not going to make you wait until we’re old and gray. Just…a little while longer. Also, I want us to keep separate accounts, and we should really consider getting a pre-n—“

“Don’t even say the word! Don’t you DARE. If you ever let me put a ring on it, I would never divorce you, for one thing. You will have to pry my cold dead body off of you. Wait. That sounds gross. I didn’t mean it like that,” Patrick made a nauseous face.

“I know,” Richie chuckled gently. “Listen, I would never want to divorce you either. I just want it to be clear that I will never accept money from you. Pre-nups don’t have to be about divorce, you know, it can spell out different financial responsibilities and things. So that I’m not chipping in every time you decide to get the newest latest gaming system.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Patrick laughed, relaxing a tiny bit. “How do you know that anyway?”

“I looked it up,” Richie demurred, unable to quite meet Patrick’s eyes.

“Oh, you looked it up, huh?” Now Patrick fully relaxed and lay back down, smiling, wrapping his arms around Richie and intertwining their legs together. “So you were thinking about it?”

“I may have been just slightly wondering a little bit about the concept,” Richie smiled.

“So I just have to wear you down,” Patrick smiled back, and kissed him gently but deeply. He was doing a pretty good job of it so far, Richie had to admit to himself.

***

Ironically, the person who would have rooted for their happiness the least enabled it to come about.

More than The Pope, Richie's ex Brady (who still shot them a nasty look if he ever ran into them around town), or any homophobic politician in history, Javier Donado would be the last person on earth to hope that his son would be happily married to another man.

He and Richie never reconciled fully, although something of a détente was achieved through the unrelenting constant diplomatic efforts of Richie’s mother. It helped that Richie’s gigantic extended clan seemed to be throwing a wedding, engagement party, quinceañera or baby shower every weekend. In recent years, Richie had declined to go to most events he knew his father would attend, and in their first year back in the city, no one in his family invited Patrick (and in most cases, didn’t acknowledge his existence).

Until Ceci got engaged, and made a point of not only granting Richie a plus-one, but putting Patrick’s name on the invitation to the party.

“We have to go,” Patrick said, trying to contain his excitement. “She’s being so nice. It would be rude.”

Richie agreed, but only because he had secretly texted Ceci earlier that day and received her assurance that she’d scheduled the event on a day she knew his father was out of town at a car show and wouldn’t be able to attend.

Richie’s family probed Patrick and giggled at him, talked about him in Spanish in front of him, and tried but failed to get him to dance a decent salsa. Patrick loved it. Richie was embarrassed but happy. At the end of the evening, Richie’s mother had packed up a bag of food for them to take home that would have fed a small platoon for a week.

From then on, Patrick was invited to family gatherings, and it was a matter of time before he and Javier met.

It was not as bad as Richie had feared (granted, he had been fearing Armageddon). Javier shook Patrick’s hand and was polite, though he acted like Patrick was a new roommate that Richie had forgotten to tell anyone anything about. He even inquired nicely about Richie’s business, and chit-chatted a bit about local sports. That was practically a heart-to-heart as far as Javier was concerned.

Their brief Christmas visit to Richie's parents had gone even better; when they stood to leave, Richie's father actually stood up (with some effort, Richie noted with concern; he should really stop smoking) and placed both hands on Richie's shoulders. "It was good of you to come, son," he said.

Richie was quiet on the way home, and through dinner. Later on that night, as they lay in bed whispering each other to sleep -- a ritual they never stopped performing -- Patrick admitted he had been a little disappointed. "I thought he was going to hug you," he confessed. "I really wanted that for you."

Richie smiled lovingly at him. "He was never much of a hugger. Even when I was a kid. Affection isn't his thing."

Patrick reached over and pulled Richie tightly into his arms. "Well, I'm going to hug you and show you how much I love you every single day of your life. I swear."

Richie squeezed him back and whispered "and I'm going to tell you I love you every single day, out loud." They held and rocked each other in the dark.  
***

Richie began having regular lunches with Javier. He grumbled a bit about how Javier always asked him how "his friend" was doing -- never his boyfriend, partner, or god forbid his actual name -- but it was still progress.

Javier shocked everyone by dropping dead of a massive coronary late in the spring. He'd been driving to Pasadena to look at a new vintage Cadillac he was planning to remodel, and managed to drive slowly off the road without crashing or hurting anyone else, but his heart had stopped before the paramedics arrived.

His death was surprising to Richie, but what truly stunned him was the reading of the will. After dispersing his house to his wife and various possessions of value to his sisters, Javier had left him his half of the auto business, which Richie had always assumed would go to his brother, despite the fact that his brother was a "fuck-up" (as he'd described him to Patrick). The will requested that Richie keep the business and work in it alongside Ceci but allowed for the fact that he might choose to sell.

Richie had little time to give into disbelief, as there were numerous accounts and assets to sort through. It took several months just to evaluate the situation and collaborate with Ceci on establishing their routines.

By early fall, Richie thought he had a grip on things. He was cooking dinner, chatting to Patrick about different details and projects he and Ceci had going, how he intended to take over more of the mundane day-to-day operations so that Ceci could focus more on her true passion, the custom car designing part of the business, which they intended to grow gradually. Patrick was half-listening, distracted by a problem in the game he was programming at work. He was pleased that Richie sounded confident and happy about the way things were going, but since he knew nothing about cars other than how to change a tire, he couldn't chime in much. The upshot of the conversation was that the business was doing well, better than Richie had initially thought. "That's great, honey. It sounds like your dad left things in good shape, and you're going to make them even better," he smiled at Richie, setting out napkins and silverware on the table.

"I think so. Ceci and I have our whole game plan drafted up. Plus, we're getting new signs -- she's drawing the new logo -- and we hired a guy to spruce up our website." Richie stirred the sizzling chicken in the pan.

"Could have gotten someone -- AHEM -- to do that for you,” Patrick said wryly, tilting his head.

"You're too expensive," Richie winked at him. "But you know, it is ironic. I'm feeling really good about our income and everything we have budgeted. My dad never wanted me to get married to a man or have kids with him, but he's made it so I can, financially."

"KIDS?!?" Patrick snapped his head up, suddenly at full attention. "Oh my god. Kids?! You want to have KIDS?"

Richie looked at him, a bit alarmed. "Well, I always did," he began a bit reluctantly. "I kind of thought you did too, but we can talk about --"

"We don't need to talk about anything! Oh my god!! I want to have your babies so badly. Well, I mean, not have them but you know what I mean. I just thought since you've turned down my proposals four times now you were going to make me wait to even discuss children until I was too old to pick them up. I am SO HAPPY" Patrick wailed, actually falling to his feet and wrapping his arms around Richie's legs. "I HAVE NEVER LOVED ANYONE MORE THAN I LOVE YOUR FATHER, MAY HE REST IN PEACE" he exclaimed dramatically.

Richie turned the heat off under the saute pan, moving the chicken and vegetables off the still-hot burner. "Well, you're going to love him a lot more in two minutes, if you reach into my pocket."

Patrick obligingly snaked his hands into both pockets of Richie's uncharacteristically loose trousers, murmuring "well, I'm always happy with what I find th--" he stopped cold when his right hand grasped a small, velvety square box. "Oh my god. Richardo Donado Ventura, you are not proposing to me right now. Oh my god, YOU ARE!"

"I very much am, if you would get up and let me get down on my knees for a change, here," Richie laughed down at him, pulling him to his feet, but Patrick wouldn't let him kneel in return.

"No, no, we have to be on the same level. I've waited too long for this, I want you to look me right in the eye."

"Fine," Richie smiled, his eyes crinkling with joy. "Pato, I've loved you since the second I laid eyes on you and I love you more every second we spend together. I'm asking if you'll do me the honor, and give me the great joy, of making you my husband."

Patrick flung the box open and placed the platinum band inside it on his left hand so quickly the motion was nearly a blur. He admired the ring for a moment before giving Richie a sardonic look. "I SHOULD say no a few times, at least, for all you've put me through."

Richie batted his beautiful lashes at him. "That's not an answer."

"Of COURSE it's yes, silly," Patrick swatted him lightly on the arm. "If we're going to get started on all these children you want to have with me, we better get going soon."

"Welll..." Richie said musingly, rubbing his hands down Patrick's back and kneading his butt lightly, before bending a little lower to grasp Patrick's thighs and lift him off the ground, straddling Richie in the air, "...we have a little time to just enjoy the engagement, I think."

With a few steps, he deposited Patrick on the kitchen table and laid him out on his back, knocking the napkins and silverware to the floor with one sweep of his powerful arms, and bending down to kiss him with feverish passion.

Good thing Patrick hadn't put out the glasses yet.

***

Richie snapped back to the present, finished pulling his t-shirt over his head, and crept down the hall ever so quietly, pausing just outside of the nursery door.

"Mercurio, Venustino..." Patrick was singing off-key and with a dreadful accent, but the sound never failed to melt Richie. He'd pointed out that Cecilia would speak better Spanish if she learned from Richie, but Patrick had pulled out about sixteen parenting journal articles that alleged children with two bilingual parents had better learning capabilities. And besides, he'd insisted, he was determined to increase his speaking level from conversational to fluent by the time Cecilia was talking. "No way I'm letting you two discuss things in front of me that I can't understand," he'd said firmly. He was also taking basic sign language lessons so that he could teach the baby signs. It was a lot, but he seemed so thrilled about all of it that Richie just smiled and said it sounded like a nice idea.

Cecilia had stopped wailing so loudly, but she was still fussing and bouncing up and down in her crib, reaching grabby hands up towards Patrick as he spun her mobile of the planets around her head. Patrick sighed. "You have a dry diaper and it's not bottle time yet, Miss Thing. I am not just going to pick you up and coddle you every time you make a little noise. I am not." But his back was slumping. Richie could see him wavering already.

"You know, my mother would have --" Patrick caught himself mid-sentence and Richie knew exactly how it would have ended: my mother would have let you cry it out all day. "Oh, you know what, Cecilia, your grandmother doesn't know anything. Come here my darling. There you go." Cecilia immediately gurgled with happiness, cooing as Patrick swung her out of the crib and onto his shoulder. She loved to be held, and Richie had to admit maybe they didn't put her down enough. She'd basically spent 24 hours a day being held by someone, if not one of her fathers, then one of the dozen friends or family members who kept dropping by to visit. They'd spoiled her a little, and Richie had to admit he didn't care. Sometimes he and Patrick fought about which one she liked to be held by more, although each of them claimed it was the other one.

"That's right. You're the most beautiful little girl that ever lived, and I just can't stand not to see you smile," Patrick said, his back still turned to the door. Richie leaned his face against the doorway. He hadn't even thought he was capable of this much happiness, and he thought his heart would burst with it. This was his favorite part of the day, his very favorite part.

"I'm going to have to watch out with you, Cecilia, because I can't say no to you and you learned from the very best," Patrick kept going, giving his free hand to the baby so she could clutch his finger while he turned and looked at Richie, blissfully. "Your daddy always gets me with those eyes too."


End file.
